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But this moment—this right now that he wished like hell was forever? It was everything, plain and simple.
He did his best to put all of that into the kiss and the next and the next, into the way he rocked her against his dick as she tightened around him, coming with a strangled cry, and into the promises he whispered into her ear that barely made a sound before his own orgasm hit in a hard rush that knocked him into another world.
Eventually, he came back with Astrid’s chest pressed against his and her forehead resting against his. They stayed like that for a moment before she straightened and brushed her fingers down his face.
“You, Cal Matsen,” she said with a smile, “could be addictive.” Then she laughed, a quiet, wistful chuckle and got up. “Water?”
He didn’t say anything. He couldn’t because he wanted to say too much.
So he just shook his head and went to the bathroom to get rid of the condom and clean up. When he walked out, she was curled up on the couch, her eyes closed and her breathing steady, a blanket wrapped loosely around her.
He walked over and picked her up, wishing like hell he didn’t enjoy the feel of her head in the pocket of his shoulder so much. Or the way her hair, still damp with sweat, curled around her face, or the sweet huff of disappointment she made when he put her down on her bed, or her soft sigh of contentment when he laid down beside her and pulled her in close, the little spoon to his big one. His arm would definitely go numb like this, and falling asleep with her ass up against his cock was going to be practically impossible, but there was no way he was changing position. It felt too right.
“Good night, Cal,” she whispered, her breathing already deep and steady.
There were a million things he wanted to say and a billion that he didn’t know how to, so he closed his eyes and did his best to fit them all into the three words he’d gotten so used to saying to her that somehow the day didn’t seem complete until he did.
“Good night, Astrid.”
Chapter Forty-One
Astrid’s alarm went off six years early—or at least that’s how it felt when she grabbed her phone off the nightstand and tapped the snooze button.
Cal tightened his arm around her waist and pulled her back so she was snug against him and grumbled into her ear, “Please tell me you are not one of those people?”
“What kind is that?” she asked, or at least that’s what she meant to say as opposed to the rusty trombone of a “huh” that came out instead.
He kissed the back of her shoulder, tickling her skin with the scruff on his chin. “How many times do you hit snooze every morning?”
That was an unfair question—and one she wasn’t obligated to answer since her brain hadn’t come online yet. So instead she just grabbed her pale peach comforter and pulled it over her head.
Which meant she also pulled it over Cal’s.
Which she should have realized before she tried to hide under the covers, but her brain was pea soup at this point still.
“You know,” he said, sounding way too awake for someone who hadn’t hit snooze at least five times. “I can still ask you questions when we’re under here.”
Astrid groaned, too tired to care that she was offloading a whole lot of morning breath in a confined space. “I’m never sleeping with you again.”
He chuckled into her hair, which was probably a total rat’s nest since she had been too post-sex blissed-out to pull her hair into a loose braid before she’d fallen asleep wrapped up in his arms.
Cal cupped her breast, strumming his thumb against her nipple. “Sweetheart, I think it’s time we both admitted that is not going to happen.”
“Just because of last night?” she asked, arching her hips back so her ass was pressed more firmly against his semi-hard cock.
“And my kitchen.” He rolled her nipple. “And your dad’s pantry.” He kissed the side of her neck. “And that night after bingo.” He rocked against her ass. “Oh yeah, and last night.”
That was a really good argument, and she would have been able to counter it effectively if her mental capacities were up to full strength, but it was too damn early for that.
So she went with the only argument she could come up with. “All of that was before I knew you were a morning person.”
“The sun’s so bright it’s gotta be almost ten,” he said. “That’s barely the morning.”
She must have made a face so grumpy that he could see it even though she was turned away from him as they spooned under the covers. Or maybe it was the slightly feral growly sound she made. Either way, he responded by letting her breast go and laying his hand flat on the curve of her stomach.
“You’re right. I’m an asshole,” he said, sliding his hand lower, leaving a trail of oh-hell-yes-I-am-alert-now desire in its wake. “How about I make it up to you?”
Astrid was already parting her legs when someone banged on her door, jolting her out of her horny, sleepy haze and back-handing her with the realization of who was here.
